The Lovely Isle
by chemkate
Summary: Series of one shots that will have a linear progression. Alternating POVs.
1. Chapter 1

**So, I had previously published this story, but the muse struck for two more stories like it. So because all three stories are based off of Irish Folk music songs, I thought I would lump them into one story. The story below, I haven't changed so if you've read it you can skip to the next chapter or you may refresh your memory. According to my muse these stories are separate instances but they do have a linear progression. So while chapter two and three will not be dependent on chapter one, they will all combine to tell one large story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles. Those rights belong to TNT, Tess Gerrtisen, and Janet Tamaro and probably more people. Likewise, I do not own the song Black is the Colour or anything Celtic Woman has ever done. Neither do I own Luciano Pavarotti or Ava Maria.**

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**Black is the Colour**

Most people listen to fast, thrumming, almost angry music when they work out but not Dr. Maura Isles. She preferred classical, adult contemporary, and opera. It made her workouts far more cathartic. The dulcet tunes and blending harmonies brought a peace to her mind like few other things did. The music stilled the ever present thoughts that constantly traversed her "big brain," as Jane liked to call it.

As the last echoes of Pavarotti's Ava Maria bled into the opening notes of Celtic Woman's Black is the Colour, Maura focused on her friend Jane. While the two normally did all of their workouts together, Jane had had a rough week and was across the gym pounding out her frustrations on a heavy bag. Maura watched as Jane's hands blurred in ever increasing speed, pounding the bag, doing more damage to Jane's knuckles than it. Maura knew that Jane's hands would be swollen and sore after this. Jane's hair was pulled up and away from her face in what Maura had heard jokingly referred to as the "Ponytail of Righteous Justice." The curly mane swung with each jab and sunlight from the nearby windows glinted off it like polished onyx.

_Black is the colour of my true love's hair.  
_

The soprano's voice filled Maura's head and the words became more poignant as Maura kept her focus on Jane. She thought of Jane's hair, swinging faster now with every furious punch, and the opening line of the song. She loved Jane's hair. She had once allowed Maura to brush through it one night, freeing it of the shower induced tangles. The whole length was spread across Maura's thighs as she ran a gentle brush through its mass. Cool and silky, Maura had luxuriated in the feel of it; often grazing her nails across Jane's scalp that sent shivers down the other woman's arms. That was probably the night Maura had realized that she was in love with her friend.

_Her lips are like some roses fair.  
She has the sweetest face and the gentlest touch._

Her lips. God, her lips. Maura stumbled a bit on the treadmill as her thoughts drifted to her friend's lips and face. Though Maura couldn't see from where she was at, she could imagine the sweat rolling down Jane's face. Following the crease between her eyebrows and down her cheek as Jane frowned in concentration and anger. While Maura whole heartedly believed that Jane was beautiful all the time she much preferred the Detective when she was smiling. It didn't happen as often as Maura would have liked but when Jane smiled, truly smiled; it reached up to her eyes and filled them with a light that made the normally articulate doctor mute. Perfect white teeth flanked by deep dimples were the things Maura dreamed of. But even when Jane wasn't smiling her full lower lip caused enough distractions for the doctor. Heretofore unexpected thoughts of kissing Jane, tasting, and nibbling on that lower lip were thoughts Maura struggled to keep private.

Maura loved everything about Jane's face but it was her touch that Maura really treasured. Gentle, always gentle. A calmness pervaded Maura whenever Jane touched her. Little touches throughout the day, inconsequential touches that Maura was sure Jane never even noticed. But Maura noticed, each touch, innocent though it was stirred within Maura feelings of longing. Maura had seen Jane use her hands for great violence, much like she was doing to the speed bag she had moved on to, but Maura knew that those hands had known so much pain. It constantly amazed Maura that Jane's touch could be so light and comforting, when to Maura they represented such strength and control.

_I love the ground whereon she stands._

I love my love and well she knows.  
I love the ground whereon she goes.  
And how I wish the day would come  
When she and I can be as one.

As Maura switched from the treadmill to the elliptical she kept her eyes on Jane. She could tell that her friend had begun to calm down. _I love the ground whereon she stands. _While Maura would gladly spend her days worshiping the ground upon which Jane stood, this line meant so much more to her. Figuratively, Jane was a woman who stood her ground on things she believed in. This more than anything was something Maura found immensely attractive. It was also one of the things that had Jane so frustrated today. While Jane and her team had done everything right in their investigation the perpetrator was going to go free. Jane and Maura both had worked long nights to make sure the man was going to go to prison but verbal deftness on the defense attorney's part had freed the man. And through the trickledown effect the investigators had been blamed for this loss. Jane had stood her ground insisting that their investigation had been airtight and fuming that the man who had brutally murdered his wife and mother-in-law was going to go free. But it wasn't just in her work that Jane had such standards. Maura had seen Jane hold to her principles in every aspect of her life be it with her family or friends. It was Jane's loyalty and protectiveness that Jane never seemed to deviate from that Maura found so attractive.

But Maura had never told Jane any of this. She was afraid. She knew Jane loved her, at least platonically, but Maura couldn't risk losing the only real friend she had ever had. She would follow Jane to the ends of the earth if she asked. The lines _And how I wish the day would come/When she and I can be as one _sent a pang of yearning through Maura's heart. Those words more than any other in the song were so true for Maura. She longed for the day, the likely fictitious day, that she could be with Jane the way she truly wanted.

"Maura, you done?" Maura was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts. The song long over, Maura looked at Jane blankly having not noticed the detective's approach.

"What?"

Jane Rizzoli smirked at her friend. She had noticed that the whole time they'd been working out that Maura had been deep in her thoughts. "Probably lost in that big brain of hers," Jane thought.

"I said, are you done?"

"Yes, Jane, I'm done." Maura replied taking one of the ear buds out of her ear, the faint strains of a piano piece coming through. Maura got off the elliptical and followed Jane to the locker rooms.

"To the ends of the earth." Maura thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Apparently, Irish folk music is my muse. I've an hour long commute to school every day and so I listen to a lot of music in that time. In case you're wondering, I have a Pandora station created from the music of The High Kings that I listen too. Anyway, on with the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rizzoli and Isles. Those rights belong to TNT, Tess Gerrtisen, and Janet Tamaro and probably more people. Likewise, I do not own the song Kitty, the Rose of Kilrea or anything performed by The Irish Rovers.**

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**Kitty, the Rose of Kilrea**

"Oh, come on, Maur' do I have to?" Jane whined even as she pulled on her jacket. "I'm Italian, asking me to walk up in there is like asking me to start a turf war."

"Tsk, Jane, you know how I feel about the use of hyperbole. But yes, you have to go. It's my opportunity to learn about my heritage." Maura responded as she pulled a sensible pair of flats out of her closet.

"You just found out you're Irish!"

"Precisely, why I want to do this. You don't have to go with me if you don't want to. It'll make it less awkward when I leave with a strapping Irishman." Maura smiled to herself knowing that, if nothing else, the Italian in Jane wouldn't allow her best friend to go home with an _Irishman_.

"Ugh, fine. But I won't like it. And so help me God if someone makes me drink O'Douls…"

* * *

Jane sat back and watched as Maura laughed and danced in time to the fast paced music. "How could I have begrudged her this?" Jane thought and as the M.E. continued to learn the traditional dance of the Irish. Being dragged to an Irish heritage festival was not Jane's idea of a good time, but watching Maura enjoy herself made up for it. Like everything she did, Maura had taken to the fast stepping dance easily. Jane took another sip of her beer and watched as Maura gracefully moved in the quadrille like dance, sweat had plastered the fringes of her hair to her face but she laughed as her partner whispered something to her. Jane was in awe of the grace with which Maura moved, yoga toned legs flashed as Maura danced. The pink light behind her flashed on the reddish highlights in her head, making the small woman's hair flame. It reminded Jane of a stained glass window she saw once, the light behind Maura lit her up with an almost holy light. The song finally ended and Maura continued the dance a bit as she made her way over to Jane.

"Oh, Jane! The dances are so exhilarating! And such a workout! I may have to start doing this instead of Zumba…" Maura tittered on about the dances giving the history of the dances and explaining the difference between social dances and performance dances. Jane just smiled as she passed a bottled water over to Maura. "Jane! They're going to do a céilí next and thought they normally don't call céilí they will this time for newcomers! Please dance with me!"

Jane tried to count how many exclamation points had to have been in those last few sentences. With a raised eyebrow Jane replied, "Really? An Italian doing an Irish jig? My ancestors will die from mortification."

"Jane, your ancestors are dead, they can't die again. But I understand if you don't want to. I guess it's time to go home anyway, it is awfully late." With a crestfallen look, Maura began to gather her stuff to go home. Jane couldn't take it. She hated to see Maura upset; she hated it more when it was her fault. She grabbed hold of Maura's wrist as she turned away. Looking down at the smaller woman, Jane rubbed her thumb along the inside of Maura's wrist, "Fine, one dance Maura. But we never speak of this okay?"

Jane led Maura out to the dance floor as the first flute notes began the song. The caller announced this particular song would be for groups of two, so Jane stood opposite of Maura. Jane tried and failed not to notice how Maura's chest rose and fell from her previous exertions. Promenade forward, promenade back._ I've never felt the pain of love 'til cupid came one day/ Now every thought I've had is on Kitty of Kilrea!_ It was time for the spin in the dance and so Jane stepped closer her arm wrapping around Maura's waist, Maura's right arm on Jane's left and Maura's left hand cupping Jane's face. Jane stared down at Maura as they spun, watching her eyes twinkle. For the first time, Jane noticed a light within Maura's eyes; one she was certain she never saw except when Maura was looking at her. _I love the rose of Kilrea, and one of these days I'll dance her away/ She's stolen my heart, and never I'll part with Kitty the rose of Kilrea._

Jane stumbled a bit, all too happy to blame her inexperience and the alcohol, as the words of the song penetrated her thoughts. The pink light glinted off Maura's hair again as the two went through the motions of the dance again. Jane's grip tightened imperceptibly on Maura's waist as they went through another turn. She concentrated hard on the words of the song and her dance partner as her muscles relaxed into the now repetitive motion of the dance. _Her hair is long and golden and her eyes are emerald green/ She's well put together from head to toe she's every young man's dream/ All of the boys are chasing her and it's time I made me play/ When I get bold I will propose to Kitty the rose of Kilrea._

Throughout most of the dance Jane had not taken her eyes off of Maura. Every part of the song made her think of Maura and what it is she truly felt. Jane had battled the stereotype of the butch cop for so long that she had thought that if it were true she'd have a good old fashioned come apart. She always thought it would be like the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and then acceptance. But watching Maura smile and laugh up at her Jane felt nothing but peace and a quiet happiness. Whatever this is she felt for the other woman she knew that it was _right._ She would say damn to the consequences.

With one last spin, the song was over and Jane and Maura wearily stepped off the dance floor and made their way back to their table. "Well, that wasn't hard." Jane wheezed out as she grabbed for a water bottle.

"I suppose I should start calling you the Lord of the Dance, now." Maura giggled out behind the lip of her own water bottle.

"As long as we can go home now, you can call me whatever you want to, Kitty." And with a hand on the small of her back, Jane guided Maura out.


End file.
